


There Should Be More Happy People

by meh_guh



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M, M/M, Stalker, Tony Makes Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's had plenty of experience being the object of someone's obsession; hey, he's awesome, who can blame people for loving him?<br/>He's even an old-hand at restraining orders, though it was always Pepper who filed for them.<br/>Which might actually be a problem now that she's left New York.<br/>Damn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conscientious Stupidity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wildfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildfire/gifts).



> Title from the quote "If ignorance is bliss, there should be more happy people" - Victor Cousin
> 
> Chapter title from Martin Luther King "nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity".

'So you're taking Happy too?' Tony slumps against the wall of Pepper's office – what _had been_ Pepper's office. 'Leaving me without a friend in the city-'

'You've got the Avengers,' Pepper replies, tone a little brittle. Tony supposed he should feel vindicated that she was having as hard a time as he was, but he just felt guilty. 'And Rhodey's based in DC now, I'm not... Tony-'

'You take him,' Tony pushed off the wall, straightening his shoulders. He couldn't grin at her, though. 'I've got the suit, after all. Whadda I need a driver for?'

Pepper looked up then, eyes red but dry. 'You're an asshole,' she says, sounding more tired than anything. 'And I don't want to hear from you for at _least_ a month, but I still love you. So stay out of trouble, huh?'

Objectively Tony had always known Pepper would wise up. That she'd realise how much he didn't deserve her; hell, she should've known better than to get involved with him in the first place. He'd _known_ he was bad for her, but he was selfish. He'd wanted her, so he'd gotten her and he'd hung on as tight as he knew how. Too tight, perhaps. It was time to let her go.

'Yeah,' Tony watches her shut down the desktop, run a hand through her hair. 'I'll try.'

****

Tony deals the way he always deals with emotion: by pretending it doesn't exist. And if Cap gives him a few more disappointed and confused looks than before, if Natasha stares a little harder, if Bruce's mouth gets weird tight lines whenever Tony stumbles out of his room to wave off his bed partner du jour... well. It was probably past time everyone saw him for what he really was.

Pepper's ruined him for women, for at least a little while, so it's men he drags out of exclusive bars and into his silk-sheeted bed. Tall men, short men, blonds, redheads, all of them gorgeous. He'd expected Cap to throw a tizzy, maybe even let Tony pick a fight. But apparently Steve is a _total_ gentleman and while he's obviously disappointed in Tony, he's never been rude to the one-breakfast-visitors.

The closest he gets is one morning a few weeks in, sidling up to Tony as he prods at the coffee maker in the hopes of speeding it up.

'Tony,' Cap said, all folded arms and frowny face that is _way_ too srs bzns to have any place in Tony Stark's pre-coffee morning. 'Are you all right?'

'Me, Cap?' Tony turns to arch back against the counter top, tilting his head so the wicked hickeys from last night are on full display. 'I'm great. How're you? Settling in OK? Hey, maybe you should come out with me tonight, get you to loosen up a little-'

'No thanks, Tony,' Cap says, heaving a sigh. 'But promise me you'll be careful?'

And of _all_ the things he'd ever expected to happen to him (and he's got a _great_ imagination; there're a lot of things on that list and Tony's only certain about half of them are actually impossible), getting the safe sex talk from a guy who is simultaneously fifty years older and twenty years younger than him? Nope, never considered that one.

'It's...' Tony turns to grab his coffee, casting around for a response more articulate than _buh?_. 'Nice to know you care, Cap. But I'm fine. Not in any danger whatsoever.'

A month from now, Tony will look back on that statement and have equal warring urges to punch himself and to laugh until he cries.

****

Tony's been in the public eye his entire life; photos of him ages two through forty two plastered over websites and magazines, there are at least twelve fake twitter accounts of people claiming to be him (and they're all pretty entertaining, Tony has JARVIS compile the best tweets for a weekly review), people are _interested_ in him. And yeah, sometimes that interest has shaded into obsession, he's got a handful of restraining orders Pepper filed and the not-infrequent death threat. For the most part his fans are awesome, and Tony has no qualms about hanging around with them.

He's been around the block, is what he's saying, and stalkers come with the territory of Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist. The fact that he's smoking doesn't hurt there, or anywhere else, either.

And yeah, OK, sometimes he doesn't notice when one face turns up in twenty different places. He's a busy man, and that's what he's got Happy for...

What he _had_ Happy for.

So anyway, he gladhands and dances and pours drinks into a few dozen pretty club goers, and then takes one home. Lather, rinse, repeat all week.

He's not sure when exactly the blond guy started turning up, but one night a few weeks after Pepper left, he's suddenly there. Everywhere Tony goes, this blond guy turns up. Which is cool; Tony's only ever where the party is and it's only sensible to keep track of him if you want to be _in_.

He's cute, in a Midwest farmboy sort of way, cornflower-blue eyes and a dimpled smile whenever he sees Tony's gaze flicking his way. Tony pours the last of the third bottle of Tattinger into some girl called Tawny and makes his way over to the All American.

'Having fun?' he asks over the rims of tonight's shades; purple in honour of Bisexual Pride week. 'Making friends, all that jazz?'

The kid flashes him a dazzling smile, attention so fully on Tony it'd be unnerving if he wasn't an avowed narcissist. 'The best.'

Tony lifts a finger at a waitress, passes the kid a tumbler of vodka to see how he takes it. Like a pro, is the answer; he knocks it back like Natasha does: with a smirk and without a splutter.

'What's your name?' he asks, tossing back his own drink (eugh, was that tequila? _Why_ was that tequila?) and sliding closer to rest his arm along the bar behind the kid.

'Joey,' cornbread says, giving Tony a look from under his lashes. 'What should I call you?'

Tony gives Joey a considering look. Cute, fit and keen; characteristics that usually mean a fun few hours, and the knowing glint in Joey's eye promises a pragmatic approach to the morning after.

'I'm sure you'll think of something,' Tony murmurs into Joey's ear as he guides him out of the club and into a town car.

****

Joey's enthusiastic and limber, but nothing outstandingly memorable, so after Tony kicks him out the next morning into a cab he forgets him. Goes about his daily business revolutionising science and saving the world on what feels like a weekly basis.

The Avengers kick ass seven times in the following week, four times against kids who probably should have been booted from their grad programmes for instability (really? Tony mutters under his breath. Someone OK'd research into robot crab armies?), and all seven times Cap yells at Tony and Clint for showboating for the crowds.

'Re _lax_ Captain Buzzkill,' Tony says, flipping the faceplate up to grin at a row of cameras. He throws a peace sign up, slinging an arm around Cap's shoulders and posing. 'We had it under control. They're _New Yorkers_ , not delicate flowers.'

Cap's tense under Tony's arm; he can't feel it himself, but Jarvis notes elevated heart rate and breathing. Tony shrugs it off as post-fight adrenaline and heads over to the police cordon to break a few hearts, sign a few chests.

Perks of the job.

'Hi, Tony,' he glances up from a spectacular pair of natural C-cups to a vaguely-familiar pair of blue eyes.

'Hiya, gorgeous,' he grins, figuring that's safe enough, and goes back to making sure his signature is spot-on. Wouldn't want to disappoint the lady, after all. He winks at her, then flips a salute at the crowd when Cap hollers for him to leave. 'Well, folks, you've been a blast. We'll be here all week, try the beef.'

He blasts up, looping a lazy arc before grabbing Cap and heading back for the tower.

****

He sees Joey around every time he leaves the tower for a week, but it's not until Cap bursts into his lab, lantern-jawed scowl for once not aimed at Tony, that he realises.

'I think we have a problem,' Cap hands over a StarkTab and folds his arms.

Tony looks down at a picture clearly taken by the building surveillance. Joey's there, just standing in front of the doors and staring. Tony flicks it to one side, and there are more photos, time stamps going back two weeks all showing Joey staring at the tower.

'What problem?' Tony asks, handing the tablet back. 'So the kid's a little star-struck. He's not hurting anyone.'

'Tony,' Cap says, and it's a tone of voice Tony's only ever heard from Pepper, Rhodey or... or Obie, he slinks past that thought without looking at it too carefully. 'I know people don't think of privacy like they used to, but this man-'

'I fucked him, he turned out to be a crazy,' Tony turns back to the plans for Mark IX's new improved gauntlet. 'Big deal. It happens. He'll hang around for another week or so, then he'll find someone else to fixate on.'

'Tony,' Cap steps closer, one giant hand gripping Tony's shoulder to swivel him and his chair. 'I've seen him at every battle this week. He must've taken thousands of pictures of you, and I'm frankly a little worried about his mental stability.'

Tony blinks a few times, and bursts out laughing.

'I'm serious, Tony,' Cap says, stepping back to fold his arms across his chest. He looks like an advertisement for manliness. 'You need to be careful.'

'OK, sure _Mom_ ,' Tony says, twisting back to his desk. 'I'll look both ways for stalkers before crossing the street. That it? I've got work to do here.'

Cap makes an unhappy noise, but leaves without making any more fuss. Tony continues chuckling for a while.

Cap's going to have to get used to the way people operate these days. Honestly, freaking out over a snap-happy kid?

****

He goes out the next day, a sudden craving for a hot dog coupled with a jittery discomfort from the upcoming conference call with the Board (he thinks this is the longest stretch since Afghanistan he's gone without speaking to Pepper) leading him down from his lab and onto the street.

He's honestly startled when he sees Joey leaning against a street sign, just staring at him. Joey smiles, pushing off and strolling over.

'Hey,' he says, dimples quirking here-and-gone as he smiles. 'Going somewhere?'

Tony frowns, but the kid doesn't ping any of his alarms. He's just a star-struck fan. Whatever, Tony can live with giving him one more thrill.

'You like hot dogs, Joey?'

Joey's face goes _blissful_ at the invitation, and Tony could almost swear he sees little love hearts dancing in Joey's eyes.

'I knew you remembered me,' Joey says, and yeah. OK, _that_ was a little creepy. Tony just raises his eyebrows, though, and Joey shakes himself. 'Yeah, love 'em.'

'Well, come on then,' Tony flashes him a grin and pushes his shades back up his nose. 'Hot dogs and soda wait for no man.'

He turns and heads along the street; he's always had a weak spot for the dogs Akmal sells ten blocks down. And the walk helps him justify the dog to Pepper and her judgemental stare.

He glances over at Joey, and hell. The adoration in his eyes is a pretty firm ego boost. Tony decides this was a great idea after all.

'So, Joey,' he claps him on the back, making sure not to linger. Don't want to give the poor kid the wrong idea, after all. 'You enjoying New York in all its ghastly glory?'

Joey ducks his head, and he angles his strides to bring him closer to Tony. 'Yeah. I knew it would be exciting, but it's beyond anything.'

Tony hums his agreement, and they chat all the way to Akmal and all the way back to the tower. Nothing of consequence; Tony's forgotten all the details by the time he balls up his napkin and tosses it into the bin. He does a victory swivel when he hits nothing but net and flips a peace sign at Joey.

'Later, Joey,' he grins. 'Got a conference call to be late for.'

Joey calls something, but Tony's already in the elevator. Jarvis sends him hurtling towards his penthouse, relaying Pepper's instructions not to be late or rude or naked when the call comes through.

'Yeah, yeah,' Tony waves a hand. 'Just gonna get a coffee, is that OK, Jarvis?'

'I have no instructions to the contrary, sir,' Jarvis sniffs, and the doors slide open to reveal Cap and the unhappiest expression Tony's ever seen. Seriously, it looks like someone made him watch videos of someone drowning kittens.

'What's up grumpy cat?' Tony's hand flutters to his communicator just to check that there's nothing wrong. Not that Jarvis wouldn't have alerted him too, but reflex is reflex. 'Something going down to funkytown?'

'I thought we agreed that you shouldn't go out alone,' Cap says, a little crinkle between his eyebrows. 'I saw him-'

'I took the kid for hot dogs, and he _completely failed_ to stab me,' Tony skirts around the wall of muscles to get at his coffee maker. 'Looks like the sky's staying up for the moment, Chicken Little.'

Cap makes a noise like cold water dumped in a sauna. 'Just because he hasn't done anything to you yet doesn't make it a good idea to give him more chances.'

Tony turns away from the coffee maker to level a disbelieving stare at Cap. 'I thought you were all about people being basically good and decent and all that apple pie shit.'

Cap scowls. 'People can be plenty dark, Tony. I thought _you_ were all about the cynical post-punk anarchy.'

'Well, if I am,' Tony says, filling a mug without looking and striding towards his office. 'Then I'm nihilistic enough not to care if Joey's a little unhinged.'

He slams the door on Cap's response and tells Jarvis to link in to the conference call.

He's going to play nice and _be_ here, but it'd worry Pepper more if he tried to act professional, so he props his feet up on the desk and throws his jacket at the couch.

Pepper's face on the huge conference screen makes something in his chest twinge, and from her tiny almost-flinch she's not OK yet either. Oh well. Tony grins his most obnoxious grin and salutes her and the Board with his mug, then spends the whole call playing tetris on his phone like usual.

****

It's actually Cap's fault Tony goes out again that night, he reasons. Does the guy not understand the whole flag-to-bull effect of trying to control Tony's behaviour? Surely everyone _ever_ knows that telling Tony not to do something is the best possible way to make sure he does it.

So purely because Steve's still hanging around in Tony's lounge room looking worried and excessively patriotic, Tony stomps to his bedroom to change and then stomps back to the elevator.

Cap follows, but he doesn't say anything, so Tony just ignores him. They hit street level, and Tony strides out to find _no Joey, how 'bout that?_ He raises a sarcastic eyebrow at Cap and flags a cab down.

Cap climbs in after him, and hey. If the guy's going to follow Tony around, Tony can at least have fun with him. He gives the driver the name of a club which caters to a fascinating range of subcultures and sits back.

If Cap doesn't tap out after ten minutes in _Jewel of Betazed_ , Tony will buy him a pony.

***

Tony totally owes Cap a pony.

He really ought to stop getting 'from the 40s' confused with 'babe in the woods'. His _father_ lived through the 40s, after all. And Cap had been into the boho-art stuff.

Tony gives a frustrated sigh and sits back to watch Cap tango with a boy done up as an Orion slave girl. It's quite a sight, he has to admit; and he congratulates himself on having insisted on Cap learning to dance.

He'd originally meant to exploit it as a way of skiving off of fundraisers by throwing Cap to the aged she-wolves of New York's upper crust, but the guy looks like he's having such a good time that Tony has to smile.

'Hi, Tony.'

Tony startles, blinking across the booth at Joey. Yeah, the kid's clearly in the red zone. 'Hello.'

Joey's foot bumps up against Tony's, but before he can say anything Cap's dropping onto the seat next to him, arm draping across Tony's shoulders and tugging Tony against Cap's side. Tony's too startled to do anything but relax into it as Cap reaches across the table with his other hand.

'Hello,' Cap says, toothpaste-commercial smile settling into place. 'I'm Steve.'

Joey stares at Cap's hand; the kid's alarmingly still. Only his eyes are moving, gaze darting between Tony's face, Cap's hand, and the table. Cap's grip on Tony tightens a little under Joey's scrutiny, and Joey shoots to his feet, storming through the variously-costumed club-goers and out the door.

Tony expects Cap to shift away now that his point's been made, but he doesn't seem in any hurry. In fact, his thumb is making small circles against Tony's shoulder. Tony's a little surprised, but hey. If Cap's OK with getting all up in Tony's business Tony's more than OK with that.

Like Tony's _ever_ going to object to 200 pounds of pure American beefcake pressing itself against him.

' _Now_ do you see why I was worried?' Cap asks a few minutes after Joey's exit. He still doesn't pull back, and his thumb is _still_ making those delightfully distracting circles, each revolution dragging the pad of his thumb onto Tony's neck and then back over his shirt. IT takes everything Tony has not to shudder, and he turns his face towards Cap, expecting him to realise just how close they are and move.

Cap turns his head to look at Tony, his free hand coming up to cup Tony's cheek.

'Cap...' Tony breathes, eyes darting down to watch as Cap licks his lips. Cap's fingers slide into Tony's hair and he closes the gap between them.

The kiss hardly lasts a heartbeat before Cap jerks back, flushing crimson and suddenly six inches away from Tony.

'Right,' Tony says quickly, before Cap can do anything completely horrifying like apologise. 'Yes, OK.'

He climbs over the table, jumping down and tossing probably far too much money on the table. Cap can find his own way home, Tony's just got to get out of here. He hovers for a moment, half hoping that Cap will chase him, half horrified at the possibility.

In the end, Cap stays frozen at the table and Tony walks out of the club at speed. He turns randomly to run away, not really caring what direction he's going in.

He pauses at an alleyway a few blocks away, leaning against the brick to get his breath. He huffs a laugh, a bitter one. God, this is going to screw everything up royally.

There's the sound of quick steps coming towards him, and Tony turns just in time to see a baseball bat coming at his face.

There's no time to dodge; he goes out like a light.


	2. Never Play the Victim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Rhianna ("never play the victim (I'd rather be a stalker)"
> 
> Sorry it took so long to update; RL decided to be... vexatious.

The sheer availability of food these days is a constant source of slightly-guilty glee to Steve. Back... well, he still thinks of the 40s as 'home' reflexively, but that's starting to change. So maybe 'back _then_ '.

Back then, it had been a constant struggle to find enough food for one meal a day, but in the tower there's a fridge full of meats and a kitchen bigger than his old apartment just _full_ of food on just about every floor.

It boggles the mind.

Steve's constructing a behemoth of a sandwich when he hears the elevator ding and the distinctive clickclickclick of Pepper Potts's towering heels coming down the hall. He hurriedly wipes his hands off and looks up with a grin that fades at her expression.

'Miss Potts, are you-'

She holds up a hand, looking away for a moment before setting her jaw. 'Captain... Steve,' she corrects herself when he opens his mouth, and she smiles briefly. 'I'm not going to be around for a while, and I was wondering whether...'

Her lip trembles, and Steve rushes forward, hovering awkwardly in front of her as he tries to decide whether touching her would be acceptable. She settles it for him by reaching out to take his hand in both of hers, fingers small and cold against his.

'Would you mind if I asked you to keep an eye on Tony?' she bites her lip. 'I just... he's not always good at looking after himself, and Jarvis tries, but he needs someone to pry him out of his lab every so often just to make sure he doesn't go completely feral.'

Steve leads her towards the stools by the counter, decides that a shoulder-pat is needed. 'Miss Potts, why are you going away?'

'Oh,' she laughs, but it sounds like a sob. 'We've reached the end of the road, Tony and I. I just can't look at him at the moment, but I can't leave him alone-'

'He won't be,' Steve squeezes her hands. 'We'll look after him. Is there someone to look after you?'

She smiles at him, and it looks like the expression Bucky's mother used to get when they'd done something she found sweet. 'I don't need a babysitter, Steve.'

'Tony doesn't think he does, either,' Steve points out with a small grin. 'Doesn't mean you don't deserve a friend.'

Pepper laughs, the sound a little brittle but happy nonetheless. 'I'll have Happy, Mrs Arbogast, and several friends who weathered my tenure at SI admirably to look out for me,' she leans forward to brush dry lips across Steve's cheekbone. 'Please call me if you need anything.'

'I hope you know that goes both ways,' he pats her hand and disentangles himself. 'I'm sorry you're hurting.'

She smiles at him again and walks out the door.

****

Tony reacted depressingly like Steve expected, drowning himself in work, scotch and sex.

Surprisingly (though not very, Steve had _eyes_ and access to Google, after all), the sex was with men. A seemingly-endless parade of an incredible variety of men strolling from Tony's bedroom to the elevator with sly smiles and mussed clothing.

Steve ignores the looks the rest of the team give him, feeling like a heel every time Tony avoids his eyes in apparent anticipation of some sort of moralistic sermonising. Does Tony truly believe _Steve_ is going to judge him over this?

So every time Tony ushers a new face down the corridor, Steve makes a point of making eye contact, of offering coffee or orange juice, of smiling. Which has the unfortunate effect of changing Clint's stares to knowing ones and Natasha's to evaluating. Bruce remains sad-eyed and distracted, but at least Tony stops bracing for words that will never come from Steve.

He tries, once, to talk to Tony, but all he gets is aggressive flirting and dismissive words.

'Promise me you'll be careful?' he begs, feeling defeated and a little unsettled. He _likes_ Tony, probably too much despite Tony's frequently awful attitude problem, and he'd really prefer not to get his heart stomped into the Persian rug.

Tony blinks at him, mouth dropping open for a long moment. 'It's nice to know you care, Cap,' he says eventually, and Steve is a little surprised at how honest the words are. 'But I'm fine. Not in any danger whatsoever.'

Steve leaves it at that. For the moment, at least.

****

Steve makes regular phone calls to Pepper, falling just shy of moaning about Tony's behaviour. Pepper laughs at some of the stories, like the man who'd fainted at the sight of Steve in the kitchen and babbled at embarrassing length when he'd revived about Steve's heroism.

Steve's started to collect these stories of small, daily amusements. He hoards them and shares them with Pepper, who is still consumed with worry over Tony and the team. He makes his calls every Thursday (the villainous community having swiftly come to realise that Thor would hold his Name Day sacred and punish transgressions with _extreme_ prejudice), but he also calls her as soon as they return to the Tower if there's been a battle. Pepper joked once about nursing an ulcer from dealing with Tony, but there had been an undercurrent of honesty.

Steve more than sympathises.

So Steve spends his days in the gym with Thor or Natasha, trying and failing to dodge Coulson's deliveries of paperwork, and watching Tony.

He barely notices the blond man (child, his mind whispers, the boy's younger than _you_ ) the first time he appears, satiated grin and careless stroll as he heads for the elevator.

The second time, turning to grin at Natasha after they take down a group of people with hooded cloaks and an affinity with roaches, Steve notices the face in the crowd. Steve's always had a good memory for faces, but it takes him a moment to place the upturned beatific expression. Steve follows his gaze and sees Tony arcing in showy loops over the crowd.

_Weird_ , he thinks, and signals the Avengers to cede the battleground to the NYPD and SHEILD.

****

That week is more than usually busy for the Avengers, but Steve is disturbed to note the blond guy at _every_ battle. It's not the usual fan behaviour, either. His gaze remains locked on Tony, regardless of whatever else is going on, and the intensity is something Steve hasn't seen in a long time.

Now that Steve's looking, he also sees the guy hanging around outside the Tower more often than not. Staring up at Tony's landing platform and just standing there. Sometimes he has a camera, but mostly he's just... staring.

Tony doesn't even seem to notice, and Steve doesn't want to worry Pepper when she's all the way across the country dealing with Tony's company and her own life, so Steve recruits Jarvis to compile the evidence of the guy's creepy behaviour. Maybe Tony will wise up when it's pointed out to him.

****

Jarvis, infinitely more concerned about Tony's safety than _Tony_ is, takes almost twenty seconds before Steve's tablet computer beeps and flashes at him.

'Mr Stark is in the lab, Captain,' Jarvis says, and Steve thanks him before striding down to make Tony see that he's in danger.

Tony's bent over a table and concentrating too hard on whatever it is he's doing to notice when the door opens, so Steve says 'I think we have a problem.'

He hands Tony the tablet and watches his face as Tony scrolls through the photos. Steve can tell from the second photo that Tony isn't going to take this seriously.

'What problem?' Tony grins. 'So the kid's a little star-struck. He's not hurting anyone.'

Steve feels his face pull into a scowl. 'Tony, I know people don't think of privacy like they used to, but this man-'

Heaven forfend Tony take anything seriously. He laughs and turns back to his holographic screens. 'I fucked him and he turned out to be crazy. It happens, big deal. He'll hang around for another week or so, then he'll find someone else to fixate on.'

Steve has to take a few deep breaths, and some days he kind of hates the little old fashioned boy who still blushes at the way Tony pops the 'k' when he says 'fucked'. He gets a hold of himself and then takes Tony by the shoulders to spin him around again.

'Tony, I've seen him at every battle this week,' he studies the bored look on Tony's face and has a brief moment where he can't quite blame the boy for fixating on Tony. The man is devilishly handsome, and he's mesmerising; fiery flashes of wit and genius and self sacrifice that make Steve's gut twist with an aching longing he's not sure about. 'He must've taken thousands of pictures of you, and frankly I'm a little worried about his mental stability.'

Of _course_ Tony's reaction to that is hysterics. Steve feels his jaw tighten again as Tony doubles over laughing.

'I'm serious, Tony,' he tries one last time. 'You need to be careful.'

Whatever fragment of Tony's attention he'd held is back on his engineering, so when Tony waves him away with another joke, Steve goes to find the others.

If Tony won't take this threat seriously, the Avengers are going to have to protect him from himself.

****

Natasha and Clint share one of their creepy telepathic stares when Steve sets the tablet on the bench between their plates of pasta.

'You've seen him around, then?' Steve folds his arms. 'I suppose you've done a risk-assessment too?'

Natasha shrugs one shoulder and angles the tablet to better see the slide show of photos. 'He's got a few drunk and disorderlies on his record. Looked like there might have been something in his home life, but nothing to raise any flags.'

'Stark's been fucking crazies and living to tell about it since before I hit high school, Cap,' Clint shovels a forkful of pasta into one cheek, but doesn't stop speaking. 'He's pretty good at risk-assessment himself.'

Steve had thought that these two would be the best option for a covert save-Tony-from-Tony operation. He doesn't want to give Bruce the stress, and “covert” and “Thor” are concepts he just can't fit into his head simultaneously, so if Natasha and Clint aren't on board it looks like it'll just be him and Jarvis. He can feel his expression going mulish.

'We'll keep an eye out, though,' Natasha elbows Clint in the ribs. 'You're right; it warrants surveillance at least.'

Steve nods his thanks, and goes to call Pepper.

****

The next day Tony walks out onto the street and takes his stalker for a lunch date without even his suit-summoning bracelets. Steve _cannot_ believe the man!

He storms into Tony's living room to wait as soon as Jarvis lets him know Tony's in the elevator. Tony strolls out whistling, then blinks in surprise at Steve before grinning. 'What's up, grumpy cat? Something going down to funkytown?'

Steve has a moment of intense awe at Pepper's patience and perseverance. It's only been a few weeks, and already he has ghostly ulcer-forming twinges in his gut. Psychological, he knows, but he still wants to rub at his stomach.

'I thought we agreed you shouldn't go out alone,' he frowns. 'I saw him-'

Tony rolls his eyes theatrically. 'I took the kid for hot dogs and he _completely failed_ to stab me!'

Tony ducks around Steve to the coffee maker, missing or ignoring the full-body flinch at his casual sarcasm. 'Looks like the sky's staying up for the moment, Chicken Little.'

The rest of the conversation goes from useless to worse, and when Tony locks himself in his office, Steve lets himself collapse on the couch and grind the heels of his hands into his eyes. 'That could've gone better.'

'It could also have gone much worse, Captain,' Jarvis says, tone comforting. 'Mr Stark was significantly less hostile to your expressed concerns than he has been to similar concerns from others.'

Steve sighs and digs out his phone.

**how do u make him see reason? :(** he types, sending it to Pepper. It's only a few seconds later when the reply comes.

**tying him to the bed sometimes worked**

Steve feels himself flush. **dont think ive got the bondage badge from scouts yet. plan b?**

There's a bit of a delay then, and Steve lies down on the cushions to stare up at the ceiling. His phone pings, and all Pepper's reply is is a series of wry- and crying-face emoticons, followed by **XOXO**.

****

Steve hangs around on the couch until Tony pries himself out of the office at seven. He shoots Steve an exasperated look and disappears into his bedroom, re-emerging in a deep red shirt and tailored slacks to storm into the elevator.

There's no way Steve's about to let him wander into the Manhattan night alone, and Tony doesn't object as he follows him out onto the street. He does raise a sardonic eyebrow at the stalker's absence, sliding into a cab without even checking the driver's face through the window. Steve heaves a sigh and follows.

There's a triumphant look on Tony's face when he give the driver directions to some place called _The Jewel of Betazed_ ; the same look Bucky would get before dragging Steve into clubs through broken-locked doors, or later into bordellos in Occupied France. Wherever they're headed, Tony clearly thinks Captain America will hate it.

Honestly, sometimes it's like Tony hasn't paid any attention at all. Steve hides his grin by turning his face to watch pedestrians.

****

The club is an interesting place. Steve finds himself expertly peeled away from Tony before he could sit down at the table, steered onto the dance floor by a young man who was covered in green paint and not much else.

'Know how to tango?'

Steve glances back at Tony, then grins. 'Only if I'm leading. Haven't learnt it backwards yet. I'm Steve.'

'Terry,' he seizes Steve's hands and positions them for the dance. 'And I'll follow your lead _anywhere_ sugar.'

Steve laughs and drops into the rhythm. Terry is a good dance partner, light on his feet and clearly enjoying himself, and on every turn Steve can see Tony's rueful grin and raised glass. One point to Steve.

The song fades into another, and Terry disengages from him smoothly, nodding towards Tony. 'I think your man might need a rescue.'

Steve pivots, and sure enough the stalker has found Tony, leaning across the table and clearly ignoring the “go away” vibe Tony's body language is screaming. He spares a moment to seize Terry's hand to brush a kiss across his knuckles to Terry's evident enjoyment, then heads straight through the other dancers to slide onto the bench beside Tony. He lays his arm across Tony's shoulders, a small tug getting Tony plastered along his side, and holds out his hand.

'Hello, I'm Steve.'

The stalker freezes, something hard and unsettling in his expression, then he storms off. The door slams behind him, and Steve absently starts rubbing Tony's shoulder. From the tension that started sapping out of Tony as Steve held him, he thinks Tony might finally be accepting the danger here.

It never hurts to make sure, though. ' _Now_ do you see why I was worried?'

Tony turns in his grasp, face just a couple of inches away, and dammit. Steve isn't made of stone! His hand comes up almost of its own accord to cup Tony's cheek; he feels like he could drown in Tony's eyes, and before he can stop himself (why _should_ he stop himself?), he's kissing Tony.

It's every bit as wonderful as Steve had imagined, on the rare occasions when he'd let himself, but before he can really enjoy it reality comes crashing back. He drags himself away, settling back onto the edge of the seat and trying not to breathe as hard as he wants to.

He tries and fails to find the words to apologise, and after a moment, Tony's face goes hard. 'Right,' he says. 'Yes, OK.'

And Tony's clambering over the table and away from Steve, throwing bank notes on the table without looking as he strides towards the door.

It takes longer than it should before Steve can make himself follow; it might be awkward as hell, but Tony really shouldn't be alone while his stalker is running free. Steve races out the door, but there's no sign of Tony on the street. He picks a direction and starts jogging.

He'll have taken a cab, Steve tells himself, though he keeps glancing into every alley. Tony's far from stupid; he'll have flagged down a cab and gone home to lock himself in his workshop. He'll have done the sensible thing.

Won't he?


	3. Upon the Stygian Banks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I stalk about her door like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.” -Troilus and Cressida, Shakespeare.
> 
> Wow, I am sorry this took so long, but I got to the end of chapter two and suddenly sat back thinking “Uh... I have no idea where to go”. I got so excited about recasting the POV to Steve's that I _completely_ blanked on how to continue; hope what I went with is good for you, one more to go after this! And as always, I am happy for people to fling requests and suggestions my way ^_^ it is _far_ from settled how the finale goes down.
> 
>  
> 
> **There is creepy sexual behaviour in this chapter, but no rape**

When Steve gets home, a little after midnight, all the common areas are dark.

'Jarvis?' he glances towards the elevator that leads to Tony's workshop. 'Is Tony still up?'

Jarvis brings the lights in the living room up to a soft glow. 'Mister Stark has not yet returned, Captain. Would you like me to trace his phone's GPS?'

Steve debates with himself for about five seconds. Tony _might_ have gone out to another bar and picked up a friend for the evening, but his safety trumps his right to privacy whatever way Steve slices it. 'Do it, Jarvis.'

He paces a tight square while Jarvis does whatever it is Jarvis does, hands clenched at the small of his back. Tony's the most vulnerable member of the team, but he is still an Avenger, Steve tells himself. More than a match for a civilian, no matter how unhinged.

'Captain,' Jarvis says, sounding close to panicked to Steve's ear. 'Mister Stark's cellphone dropped off the network three point two six hours ago.'

Steve stills, glancing up at one of Jarvis's cameras in lieu of eye contact. 'He couldn't just have gone somewhere the network doesn't reach?'

'Unlikely in the extreme, sir,' Jarvis sounds a klaxon through the Tower. 'I'm afraid he must have been kidnapped.'

****

When Tony swims back towards conciousness, there's a tell-tale grogginess to his thoughts that screams “drugged”. He swallows hard, breathing cautiously through his nose until the spinning slows. After a moment, his face decides to remind him how it got a little too friendly with a baseball bat last night, and Tony can't help the small, animal noise that escapes. Oh, the glamorous life of a superhero.

He's lying on something soft, head propped up a little, so Tony's going to go out on a limb and assume “bed”. Careful flexing lets him know his hands and feet are tethered to something, one limb to each of four corners, though whatever the bindings are, they are quiet and soft. Tony opens his eyes, and after a moment's furious blinking, he can see the satiny rope that's holding him spread-eagled on a double bed. He can't move more than an inch or two in any direction, but on the plus side there's no chafing. Whoo.

There's hardly any noise bleeding in from the street, so either he's been removed from New York entirely, or the apartment has serious soundproofing. Either option is bad, but Tony's seen enough CSI dramas for the second option to be the more worrying. He deliberately avoids the why-would-they-need-to-soundproof line of thinking, and concentrates on details that are more likely to be helpful. 

There's a window on the opposite wall, with blackout curtains that have only been mostly-drawn. The world outside, in the three-inch slice he can see, is the sodium yellow of street lighting. So best guess he's been out for either two hours or twenty. Tony's betting on the twenty, and really hoping that it hasn't been longer. If only because bedsores and anaesthetic-addiction would be a real bitch to have to work through.

'Oh good, you're awake,' Joey says from across the room, and Tony only just manages to avoid jerking. 'Can I get you something to drink, babe?'

'You got a “what the fuck, you psycho” on the rocks?' Tony heaves at the ropes, but they're solidly-done. 'Or I could go for a long, cold glass of “untie me right now, you lunatic”.'

Joey laughs, walking over to perch on the edge of the mattress and run his fingers over the sorest spot on Tony's head, but it doesn't have the blinding, grinding pain of a break, so Tony's just going to ignore it. He can deal with pain. 'Oh, babe. You're such a joker,' his fingers dig in, and Tony can't stifle the gasp. 'I made mac 'n cheese if you're hungry.'

Joey's fingers circle the sore spot, and when Tony looks at his face, there's an unsettling empty grin there. His expression seems frighteningly detached from the irregular jabs his fingers keep making on Tony's injuries. Tony jerks as far away as the restraints allow, glaring up at Joey.

'If you untie me now,' he says, as calm as he's able. 'I'll pay for your treatment. I'll even refrain from pressing charges, Joey, and that is the best deal you are going to hear in your _life_.'

For a moment, Tony thinks Joey might actually do the smart thing, then he snaps a hand against Tony's face. It's not a harsh blow, really, just a backhanded slap. It still sends Tony's vision reeling.

'Don't talk to me like that,' Joey leans forward, sliding his hands into Tony's hair and clenching to hold him in place. 'We're going to be so happy together, babe, but you need to treat me with respect.'

Tony can't move his head at all, and close-up, Joey's eyes are creepily vacant. 'Sure,' he chokes out, throat gone tight with anxiety. 'Yeah, I can do that, Joey. Mac 'n cheese, you said? Sounds great. If you'll just untie my hands-'

Joey's mouth twists into an ugly snarl, and he throws himself back, storming two paces away, then back before roaring 'Don't try and play me, Tony. You're staying where you are until you realise that we're _meant to be_.'

Tony swallows, mind trying to race through options and best-practice hostage negotiation techniques, but his heart is racing and whatever has been keeping him asleep has fogged his head, and frankly, Afghanistan had been more than enough of this shit for _life_.

Joey pauses by a lamp, then he lunges forward again, cupping Tony's face, eyes darting over Tony's features. 'Babe, you gotta listen to me; I'll look after you, but you can't make me mad. If you make me mad, I have to punish you. You get it?'

There's a sort of desperation in his voice, and Tony gets a chill, pulse ratcheting even further up at his inability to pull away, to do anything except lie there. There's a line between Joey's eyebrows, and he looks for all the world genuinely concerned. Like he can't make the link between the threat that's got Tony tense and himself.

Tony knows he has to say something, but what the hell do you say to someone who's this unhinged?

'I get it,' he tries a smile: a quick, nervous thing that feels alien on his face. 'I'll be good, I promise.'

There's a long moment where Tony can feel his heart thrum, Joey's intense stare tripping every warning sense he's got. Then Joey grins, ducking forward to give Tony a kiss.

'You gotta be good,' Joey murmurs against Tony's lips, pressing dry pecks along Tony's cheekbone and repeating himself like a mantra. 'You can't make me angry, babe, you won't like me when I'm angry.'

For a heartbeat, Tony feels a powerful urge to laugh. He wants to tell Bruce about his apparent graduation to meme-hood, and spend a drunken and/or stoned hour deconstructing the stupid shit his brain comes up with in the _worst possible_ situations, but as quickly as the urge came it passes.

If he gets out of here alive, Tony decides, smiling up at Joey, the whole fucking team are getting subcutaneous transmitters. Multiple ones, in multiple formats, as a fail-safe.

****

After a brief and creepy round of petting, Joey disappears into the kitchen, and comes back with a steaming bowl, a fork, and a napkin. He settles on the edge of the mattress, drops the napkin on Tony's chest, and leans forward. The smell of the cheese is overpowering to Tony, and he presses his lips tight together when Joey scoops up a careful forkful. Joey blows on the fork, like he's feeding an infant, and smiles down at Tony.

'Come on, babe,' Joey butts the goop against Tony's lips. 'You gotta keep your strength up. I made it from scratch.'

If there's one thing Tony has never been accused of, it's pliability. He turns his face as far away from Joey and the cheesy mess as he can, and makes a noise of refusal.

Joey drops the fork on the bedspread, and his fingers tangle painfully in Tony's hair, jerking his head back around. 'You think you're too good for this, huh?' he shakes Tony's head with every word, knocking him back against the headboard. 'Too fucking high and mighty for my mama's mac 'n cheese?'

Tony flinches when Joey hurls the bowl at the wall, gooey yellow stuff splattering across Tony and the bed. Joey jumps up, taking a furious three steps up and back along the room, muttering disjointed nonsense under his breath. On the sixth pass, he flings himself onto Tony, straddling Tony's waist and sliding his hands around Tony's neck. He squeezes just hard enough to make swallowing uncomfortable, and bares his teeth.

'Boys who don't finish their dinner get punished,' he snarls into Tony's face, and he's got no room to move but Tony presses himself back into the mattress as hard as he can. 'And boys who cry about it ain't gonna be men. I gotta punish you, babe; you broke the rules.'

There's a rueful note to Joey's voice, and his thumbs stroke not-quite gently over Tony's Adam’s apple as he leans right in, lips brushing Tony's and he just _breathes_.

'I don't know the rules, Joey,' Tony croaks out, tongue darting out to moisten his lips and hitting Joey's too. 'You have to tell me the rules if you want me to obey them.'

Joey breaks into a sunny smile and he presses a kiss to Tony's lips before sitting back and resting his hands on Tony's sternum just below the arc reactor. 'You have to be good, Tony,' Joey's thumbs stroke the arc reactor's casing. 'Eat when you're told, go to sleep when I tell you. You can't make me angry; I lose control. So you gotta be good.'

Tony nods, stomach clenching with the helplessness of his situation. He's got no leverage to even _try_ and escape. The one comfort is that tied like this Joey can't try to rape him without loosening at least one limb, and if he undoes even one leg Tony's reasonably confident that Steve's combat training has made him capable of fending Joey off, at least.

'Knew you'd be good,' Joey purrs, hands drifting in wide paths over Tony's chest. 'You're clever; you won't make me mad.'

And then, just to prove Joey wrong about his brain capacity, and because Tony has never met a risk he didn't seize and run for broke with, he asks 'You feel like letting me up to go pee?'

Joey's hands curl, nails scoring rough gouges over Tony's ribs, and he slaps Tony in the mouth.

'You think I'm stupid?' he snarls, red and spitting. 'You think you can trick me? I know all the tricks, you fucking bitch, you're not getting away from me!'

Tony grits his teeth as a second and third slap land; he feels his lip split on the second. The blood tickles faintly as it trickles towards his chin. 

Breathing hard, Joey grabs Tony's face and grinds their mouths together, lapping at Tony's blood and making helpless little hungry noises. Tony softens his mouth a little, and he tries to think through the pain and anxiety and anger. How far should he go along with Joey? How long does he need to play for time until the team can track him down? Can he get himself out without having to wait for a rescue like Princess fucking Peach?

He really wants to fight Joey every step of the way; Tony hadn't let the ten rings control him, and that had been before he'd become a hero. There's a large part of him shouting to bite, to snap and snarl like a dog, but that's the dumb move. That's the move that ends with Tony bleeding out on a shitty thin mattress in an ugly room with the stink of mac 'n cheese everywhere to the soundtrack of a deluded fan ranting victim-blaming bullshit. No thank you.

The other difference to Afghanistan is that he's not a solo agent any more. He has a team, and Jarvis, and Pepper... hell, even Fury. He needs to trust his friends to find him, and he owes it to them and to himself to stay alive.

He can mouth off at Joey when the bastard's safely locked in SHIELD's brig.

So Tony keeps his mouth slack, lets Joey maul his face until he calms down and draws back with a few final pecks.

'You're mine now Tony,' Joey says, getting up and flicking the light off, then curling up by Tony's side. He rests his cheek on Tony's stomach and throws an arm across Tony's hips. 'You gotta try harder to learn. I don't wanna hurt you, babe, so you gotta obey the rules. Gotta be a good boy for me.'

Joey doesn't seem to expect a response; a couple of minutes later, his breathing has evened out into sleep. Tony stares at the back of Joey's head and tries to keep breathing normally.

He doesn't get any sleep that night.

****

In the twenty-three hours since Tony disappeared, Steve's pounded the pavement for ten blocks in every direction from the bar, threatened Nick Fury, put his fist through three heavy bags and one wall, and none of it's helped in the slightest.

Natasha's out putting pimps in choke-holds and shaking her contacts down for even the slightest clue; Clint's at SHIELD poring over illegally-obtained security feeds and terrorising the agents; Bruce is in his lab trying to keep calm, and doing something complicated to try and narrow their search; and Thor is... staring at Steve.

'We will find him,' Thor looks fierce and sorrowful at the same time, standing in the middle of the Tower gym and staring steadily at Steve's face, not the ragged hole beside Clint's “hang in there” cat poster or the plaster dust on Steve's knuckles. Steve sort of wishes Thor would burst into laughter and offer a plate of pop tarts as the ultimate solution to life's woes like usual. 'Or he will find us. Tony is a most resourceful man, Steve.'

'I know,' Steve leans forward, racing his hands on his knees. The worst part in a day full of worst parts had been the phone call to Pepper. She'd made one small horrified gasp, then tried to _comfort Steve_ , when it was _his inattention to blame_. He has to take a deep breath, forcing that thought away. The time for self-recriminations is _after_ they've got Tony back; self-pity's just wasting time now.

Steve straightens his shoulders, brushes the dust off his hands, and turns to the speaker on the wall. 'Have you had any luck, Jarvis?'

'I believe I can confirm that Mr Stark has not been transported out of the metropolis,' Jarvis flashes a dizzying series of traffic camera stills on the blank wall opposite the cardio equipment, doing the information-dump at the speed he uses for Tony instead of the more sedate pace he usually uses for the rest of them.

'His assailant, assuming it is the same young man as was stalking him, does not match any of the drivers of any vehicles leaving New York. Unfortunately, Joey Fischer appears not to have a cell phone, credit card, bank account, place of employment or residence. I have been attempting to backtrace his movements using Tower security footage as a starting point, but he is remarkably good at finding and exploiting blind spots.'

Steve swallows around a bitter lump of helplessness, and avoids looking towards Thor. Neither of them have skills which would be useful here, and he feels ashamed of himself in the face of Thor's calm concern and patient wait for his moment.

Steve trusts his team; the only thing he could be doing to help right now is trudging along streets trying to glare a clue into appearing, and Clint and Natasha have that covered much more efficiently, to say nothing of Jarvis. He just has to wait until the intel comes in.

'You should try and get some rest, Captain,' Jarvis shuts the display off. 'I shall notify you the instant we know anything.'

'Aye,' Thor strides over to clap a hand on Steve's shoulder and pulls him gently towards the door. 'A well-rested warrior will triumph more swiftly. I shall keep watch for you in the interim.'

Steve nods, distractedly, and retreats to his room. He's got no chance of sleeping, but at least he can make sure he's not a tense and miserable distraction to anyone who can help find Tony.

****

The light through the curtain gap shifts to daylight before Joey stirs. His face has been resting directly over Tony's bladder for approximately forever, and it's become excruciating. When Joey smiles sleepily up at him, Tony returns the expression. Hardly anyone's on top form five minutes after they wake up, so there's a fair chance he can get Joey to make a mistake.

'I really need to piss, babe,' Tony's throat's a little dry, and he's pleased at the sleep-raw huskiness it mimics.

Joey flushes, pushing himself up onto his elbows to lean over Tony. 'Of course you do. I'm sorry, I shoulda let you go last night!'

He brushes a closed-mouth kiss against Tony's lips, but doesn't reach for the ropes. He dashes through the doorway instead, and comes back holding an empty two-litre soda bottle.

Tony bites back his first three responses, and dials his smile over to winning. 'Do we have to do it this way? What if I promise to be good?'

Joey nods, reaching towards Tony's crotch. 'I know you will, babe, but you gotta earn it first. It's OK,' he grins up at Tony as he lines up Tony's cock with the bottle. 'I _like_ looking after you. We're gonna share everything.'

Tony's never really had much in the way of body-shame, and his bladder really is full to bursting, so he lies back to stare at the ceiling while Joey takes care of business for him. He does take a moment to be thankful that there don't seem to be any cameras around; this is one video he really would prefer stays _off_ the internet, thank you very much. He stays limp while Joey swipes a cloth over his cock and tucks it back away. Joey makes a pleased sound, and takes the bottle off, presumably to the bathroom.

After maybe ten minutes, he reappears with a huge bottle of water, and a tub of yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it.

'Breakfast?' Tony gives Joey his PR grin and opens his hands as the only bit of friendly body language open to him at the moment. 'Don't suppose there's coffee?'

Joey swings a leg over Tony to straddle him again, and balances the yoghurt on the arc reactor before slipping a hand behind Tony's neck to tip the water against Tony's lips. Tony gulps at the water, noticing but not caring when it slips in twin rivulets down his throat to soak into the mattress.

'Not too much,' Joey clicks his tongue, pulling the bottle away and dragging his thumbs through the cool lines on Tony's cheeks, smearing the narrow line of cleanliness back into the sweaty, trapped discomfort of the rest of Tony. 'You don't want to get too friendly with the piss bottle, do you?'

Tony coughs, the cottony feeling of drugs and the warm night sticking in his throat even after about twelve ounces of water. Joey seems friendlier than last night, and hell. Anyone who's interested in Tony _must_ appreciate a little pushiness. So Tony tilts his chin down a little to look up through his eyelashes, and widens his eyes. 'Coffee?'

Joey gives a moue of distaste. 'That stuff'll kill you, babe. Pesticides and chemicals and shit. But if you're good, I'll see what I can do.'

He watches Tony's face fall, huffs an amused breath, and shoves a spoonful of pinkish yoghurt into Tony's mouth.

It's artificial strawberry, and tastes close to expiration, but Tony swallows. If he can't talk his way out, then he'll just has to play for time. The team will find him. Steve will find him.

They have to, otherwise Tony is _screwed_.


	4. A Field That Has None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote from "Perseverance alone does not assure success. No amount of stalking will lead to game in a field that has none."  
> ~ I Ching

After another appointment with the piss bottle, Joey disappears into the other room for a while, then comes back with an electric hand drill, a wall bracket and a wireless camera.

'I gotta go to work, babe,' he says around a mouthful of screws as he attaches the bracket above the door. 'But I'll be watching you. Can't bear the thought of having you outta my sight, but the money's gotta come from somewhere, right?'

'I could get you money,' Tony tries. 'You don't even need to let me up, I could transfer a million bucks to you through a laptop-'

Joey laughs, finishes setting the camera up. 'I don't have a _laptop_ , Tony. And I told you, I'm gonna look after you. It's not me looking after you if I use _your_ money, is it?'

Tony's shoulders are cramping fiercely, but he pastes on the most convincing smile he can muster. 'I suppose not. Are you going to be gone long?'

Joey fiddles with the camera until the active light flicks on, then he crawls onto the mattress to lay his head on Tony's stomach. 'It'll be a seven hour shift today; I couldn't get less on such short notice, but from tomorrow I'll only be gone five hours a day,' he grins up at Tony. 'I found a freelance job, so I can work from home. The site said I could make two grand a day!'

Well, if Tony's still stuck here when Joey realises he's fallen for a scam, Tony's not sure what he'll do. Die, probably.

'That's great,' he says. 'Good money, well done.'

Joey grins and leans over to press a kiss to the arc reactor. 'I can be good to you, babe. Now, you comfortable? Need another blanket? Oh! Yeah, can't let you get uncomfortable...'

Joey jumps up and reaches under the bed, pulling out one of the beer can hats from the ball park. 'I'll get you a bottle of water, but you gotta be careful. I don't want you pissing the bed, Tony.'

Tony can feel his face pulling into disbelieving lines. Does Joey honestly think it's possible to stop the flow once started without the ability to remove the damn hat? Apparently Joey isn't quite that deranged, though, because he sets the hat with its water bottles on the bed by Tony's ribs and only hooks the straws around Tony's neck.

There are a few more kisses brushed against Tony's skin, then the snick of the front door closing while Tony's running through the Fibonacci sequence to keep his breathing under control.

He takes a deep breath and glares up at the red light on the side of the camera. At least with a signal going out, the odds of Jarvis finding him have gone drastically up.

Tony clenches his teeth around the straw and keeps staring at the lens.

****

Steve can't stand the tension in the tower any more by the time the sun comes up again, so he changes into sweats, grabs his Avengers card and heads off to run the whole of Manhattan.  
Every damn street if he has to.

Of course, news of Iron Man's disappearance has spread like wildfire around the criminal population, so Steve winds up foiling six garden-variety burglaries, three muggings and one attempted establishment of a super villain identity before he's even out of breath.

'We probably could've handled this one,' the beat cop says when Steve hands a bruised and trembling mugger into her custody. The streets are already crowded with people rushing to work, and her expression is exasperated but kindly, so Steve ducks his head and shuffles instead of snapping.

'Sorry,' he gives her a probably-sorry approximation of his best Little Boy grin. 'I tend to jump in without looking. No disrespect intended.'

The cop – Sanchez – grins right back as she shoves the mugger into the patrol car. 'Try and make it last longer next time; some of us are usually too busy working to appreciate that ass when it's fighting crime.'

Steve can't help the shocked laugh that startles out of him, and Sanchez's widening grin tells him that was the point. He salutes her and turns to continue his run, dodging New Yorkers who are too cosmopolitan to notice six-feet-four of super soldier barrelling along the pavement.

He really does love this city.

****

Steve checks in with Jarvis diligently every half hour, but the offices are emptying back onto the streets for lunch by the time he slows down. Jarvis has had no luck tracking Tony or his stalker; there's been no word from Clint or Natasha and Steve thinks he might need about three thousand calories to make up for his exertion so he takes the most direct route back to the tower.

Bruce is waiting in the lobby when Steve steps into the building, sweaty and just as tense as before.

Steve gives Bruce a once-over, but the man is just as rumpled and exhausted as he always is. No green tinge to his skin or spark of excitement in his eyes, so the faint hope of someone discovering something without Jarvis having notified him withers. He heads to the elevator with only a brief nod as greeting, and Bruce trails after him.

'We'll find him,' Bruce says, a certainty Steve wishes he shared in his tone. 'We've got the best people in the world looking, and Tony'll find a way to send a flare up.'

'I sure hope so,' Steve replies, then goes to hit the showers.

****

When it happens, it's utterly unexpected. Steve, Bruce and Clint are gathered in one of the kitchens trying to work up the energy to make something a little more nutritious than Pop Tarts and Cap'n Crunch when all the lights flick into emergency mode. The huge picture window turns black and Jarvis throws up a grainy video feed of a ratty bedroom. Tony's spread-eagled on the bed, hands and ankles shackled, but no visible injuries.

'Mary and _Joseph_ ,' Steve breathes, starting forward. 'Jarvis, is this live?'

'Real time feed originating in the Bronx,' Jarvis confirms, and Steve is faintly aware of Clint snapping orders into a SHIELD communicator. 'Mr Stark's captor installed a webcam and has just remote accessed it from- from- frrr-'

'Jarvis?' Bruce says, frowning up at the nearest speaker, which is making a staticky hiss. 'Jarvis, are you all right?'

The emergency lights snap off for four seconds, then every screen in the room (which is a _lot_ , Steve hadn't realised just how many surfaces Tony thought needed to be computers) turns black and bright yellow code starts scrolling across them.

'Apologies, gentlemen,' Jarvis announces. 'I am undergoing an attack on sev- sev- several fronts. Mr Stark's loca- location is-is-is Throgs Neck, Sampson and Quincy-y-y-y.'

'Got it, Jarvis,' Steve says, already rushing to fetch his shield. 'Can you handle your attacker?'

'Cer-certainly Captain,' Jarvis sniffs. 'Retrieve Mr Star-r-rr-rk. I shall be fine.'

Steve takes the fire stairs down to the garage four at a time, switching his communicator on and flipping over to Hawkeye's channel. 'Hawkeye, scramble a Quinjet and await Jarvis's location on the hacker. I'm going after Iron Man.'

'Copy that,' Clint replies, breathing just a little harder as he runs towards the hangar. 'Widow says you'd better take Riverside; there's been a crash on Hudson.'

Steve copies, throwing his bike into gear and heaving it bodily around to the garage exit. Tony's alive, and soon Steve will be able to yell at him properly.

****

After the first hour, the adrenalin fades and Tony starts getting twitchy with boredom. He's never done well with quiet, he's especially never done well with nothing to _do_. After he's run through the atomic weights of all the interesting elements forward, then backwards; sung AC/DC's TNT, the rude song about Caltech Rhodey taught him back in the early nineties, and all the Tom Lehrer songs he can remember; after that, Tony finds himself tugging helplessly and painfully at the cuffs. He can feel the skin breaking, but there's _nothing_ to occupy himself with. He really doesn't like being restrained; never has, but unless he's in the suit, he needs to know he can _move_ these days.

If he's stuck here any longer, he's going to have to ask Joey to leave a radio or TV on for him just so he doesn't go completely crazy.

'OK,' he tells himself. 'Bruce's crazy breathing thing.'

The breathing thing doesn't calm him down, though, it just makes him light-headed. Which would be enjoyable during one of Pepper's enforced work breaks, but winds up almost leading into a panic attack here on the bed.

Meditation works exactly as well as ever (which is to say: not at all), counting ceiling tiles takes less than ten seconds, straining to hear anything outside the room just leads back towards the panic...

He's close to screaming, and after a moment, Tony lets himself. Either the room's soundproofed and it doesn't matter, or some cranky neighbour'll hear and call the cops on him.

God, Tony hopes someone calls the cops.

Screaming is pretty exhausting, and after he's run through every insult he can think of twice, Tony sags against the pillows. His wrists are itching ferociously, scabs already forming and rubbing off again when he pulls ineffectually.

'Jesus fucking Christ,' he sighs. 'I'd even take a sudoku at this point.'

There's a crashing sound from the other room; wood splintering and Tony tenses for a moment before he hears Steve shouting his name.

'In here!' Tony yanks at the cuffs again, and Steve appears in the doorway in civvies, shield slung on his back and a wild expression on his face. 'For god's sake, get me out of these! My nose is itching like a _bitch!_ '

Steve grins, and it takes him less than a minute to snap all the chains. Tony sits up, breath coming too fast still and stares at Steve.

Steve's hand comes up to cup Tony's neck; he looks _wrecked_ , even worse than Tony feels.

'I...' Steve starts, tracing a finger along the raw points on Tony's wrist. 'Tony, I-'

He can't listen to anything at the moment, so Tony leans forward and rests his forehead against Steve's chest and just breathes. Steve always smells faintly of leather, even when he's not wearing any, and the Armani cologne Natasha had given him for Christmas. Beyond that, he smells like _Steve_ , like safety and friendship and home.

Steve's arms come up to curl around Tony's back and Tony tells himself that he just needs a minute. Steve's heartbeat is a strong, unsettlingly-slow rhythm under his cheek, and god bless him, Steve doesn't try to speak to him.

It's closer to ten minutes before Tony pulls away, but Steve doesn't say anything. His hands drift along Tony's back to cup his shoulders and Tony gives him a faint but genuine smile.

'I'm fine, Cap,' he pats one of Steve's hands with his own and climbs to his feet, takes a few steps across the room because he needs to know he can. 'Jarvis trace Joey's little pay-per-view set up?'

'Yes,' Steve's hands clench against his knees, then relax. 'But Joey must have launched some sort of cyber attack immediately after. We should get you back to the tower so you can sort it out.'

Tony frowns. Joey hadn't seemed like a Black Hat. Not in the hacker sense, anyway. 'You sure? Sure it was Joey?'

Steve's lips thin. 'No, but Jarvis started going down as soon as he'd given me your location. He seemed to think it was him.'

The thought of someone messing with Jarvis is enough to send a spike of angry determination down Tony's neck. He starts for the door, feels a quiver of hot pleasure at the sight of the splintered wood of the door.

'What're you waiting for, Cap?' Tony demands. 'An invitation? Let's go kick some arse!'

The sound Steve makes is something Tony is going to spend a _lot_ of time thinking about once Joey's behind bars, but at the moment his priority is to get back to Jarvis.

****

Tony's self-aware enough to accept the dirty thrill he feels when he's got his arms wrapped low on Steve's waist and they're weaving through traffic at speeds no one but a Super Soldier could manage. He buries his nose in the gap between Steve's jacket and his helmet and lets himself grin until they skid to a halt in the Avengers' private garage. He leaps off the bike and sprints for the elevator, Steve less than two feet behind him.

Tony's a genius, he has more than eight magazine features from various tech journals to support that claim and he long ago installed a mechanical override for Jarvis's transport-functions. If his life has taught him nothing else, it's taught him that there is _always_ an unprotected flank someone will think to attack. And Jarvis is an awfully tempting target.

The override provides a significantly less smooth ride, but they spill onto the main floor less than two minutes later. Tony's OK with a bit of motion sickness if it might make the difference between saving Jarvis and losing him.

'J, baby!' he cries, racing to the closest terminal. 'Talk to me, pumpkin!'

Jarvis doesn't waste any effort on his audio simulators, he just throws the virus's code onto Tony's terminal. It's fucking elegant work, Tony thinks as he starts combating it. Jarvis, now that he has Tony's help, concentrates on locking down the access points the virus (wow, shit, this is some Stark-level AI shit going on) is using. It takes a while, but eventually the last remnants of malicious code are torn to bitty little pieces and Tony sags back into Steve's chest.

'Might I take a moment to say, sir,' Jarvis says after he's run a quick couple of scans to double- and triple-check he's clear. 'It is a pleasure to have you safely returned to us.'

'Love you too, baby,' Tony grins. It's autopilot that drags him to the coffee maker, and Jarvis will always be his favourite for the quadruple-strength cup that's waiting for him by the time he reaches the kitchen. 'So, you manage to get a lock on wherever that came from?'

'Of course,' Tony grins at the note of offence in Jarvis's tone. _God_ , he is good. 'I sent an e-bomb along the connection just before I shut it down. The hacker is at a meat packing plant in Queens; I have dispatched Hawkeye and the Hulk in the Quinjet to collect him.'

'Outstanding,' Tony grins in paternal pride. ' _Was_ it Joey? Or was this the world's biggest horrible coincidence?'

'I am unsure how, but I believe it to be the same man,' Jarvis grits out. 'Hawkeye and the Hulk are reporting a successful arrest; shall I reroute them to the Helicarrier and prepare the Mark XXX for launch?'

'Sure,' Tony tosses the dregs of the coffee down his throat. 'Let's ruin Fury's day.'

****

Steve is a giant killjoy who refuses to let Tony carry him princess-style even though Tony tries to pull the trauma card on him, citing some bullshit about dignity and Captain America's reputation. Tony surrenders with bad grace, and they're onboard the Helicarrier five minutes later. Just in time to see the Quinjet docking and Hulk dragging an unconscious Joey out by the ankle. Tony pulls the helmet off to get the full “I was there” enjoyment out of the moment.

Tony slants a glance at Steve, expecting a protest about treatment of prisoners, but Steve's jaw is a tight line and his eyes are furious.

'Tiny crazy man has computer-brain,' Hulk grunts at Tony. 'Shut down before Hulk could smash.'

'He's a mutant!' Hawkeye yells from the Quinjet as he runs through the shut-down procedures. 'Hope you got that Faraday Cell finished Nicky-boy!'

'Stow it, Barton!' Fury's voice snarls over the PA. 'And get your butt to medical; I saw that pallet jack clip you!'

Hawkeye makes a rude noise, but no one seems concerned about him so Tony keeps his attention on Joey. Mutant facility with computers would explain how he'd managed to take Tony without SHIELD or Jarvis picking up on it. Probably also went some way to explaining why he'd fixated on Tony.

Leather-clad SHIELD agents swarm into the room to take Joey into custody and the Hulk wanders into a corner to lie down. After a few minutes, there's the rushing pop that signals Bruce's resumption of his human size, then a pained sigh.

'Anyone got some pants I can borrow?' Bruce calls, and suddenly Tony can't stop laughing.

Bruce makes a quiet noise, then hurries out of the shadows, uncaring of his nakedness and throws his arms around Tony's armour.

'Hey there, Jolly Green,' Tony murmurs into Bruce's hair. 'Hope you bounced him off a few walls before he conked out.'

Bruce chuckles, and the armour's sensors register a steep increase in the pressure he's exerting before he steps back. 'I'm sorry, Tony.'

Rather than try and dismiss Bruce's guilt, Tony leers at him, eyebrows waggling violently as he lets his eyes drag up and down Bruce's body. It works as a distraction technique, and Bruce hurries off to find someone to lend him clothes.

'I want you to get checked out too,' Steve says quietly, stepping right up behind Tony and breathing down his neck. Luckily the armour stops Tony's full-body shudder from being ridiculously obvious to Fury and his minions. Or at least Tony hopes so; he doesn't want to know if that's not correct.

'I'm _fine_ Captain Poppins,' he says over his shoulder, ruthlessly not thinking about how blue Steve's eyes are from this close. 'He didn't do anything more awful than drool on me when he fell asleep.'

'Tony.'

Tony lets his head droop. 'OK, Cap.'

He lets Steve deliver him to a bored-looking doctor with purple hair and eyes; SHIELD's equal-opportunity hiring policy is amongst the world's most progressive, but everyone they recruit turns into a cookie-cutter buzz kill drone after a few years. She shoves Tony into a cubicle and is refreshingly brusque about his experience. Tony very nearly likes her by the time she proclaims him medically unfit for a week, to be spent in bed if possible.

Steve's still there when Tony escapes; he hasn't even changed.

'No harm done, Stars and Stripes,' Tony says with a grin. 'No need to look so glum.'

Steve frowns, then shakes his head. 'Fury's letting Joey stew for a bit before the interrogation, but they're probably getting ready.'

'Awesome,' Tony shoves everything except his curiosity about _how_ Joey did what he did right down into the deepest recesses of his mind. 'What're we waiting for then?'

****

In the end it doesn't even take Natasha ten seconds to get Joey sobbing hysterically and making inarticulate apologies. Tony stares through the one way glass for a few minutes, but it's not satisfying. Seeing a grossly disturbed kid crying in confusion is nothing but exhausting really, so he leaves the agents to it and goes to kill a bottle of scotch in the bath.

Jarvis is the actual best, so he just puts a steady stream of Dogcops up on the wall while Tony's soaking the past couple of days out of his system.

Half a bottle of Glenfiddich is enough to get Tony feeling back on an even keel, and he's even a little hungry. He belts a robe around his waist and heads out to the kitchen to see what's ready to eat. The tumbler of scotch comes with him, but Tony's got a nice enough buzz going it's more from habit than desire.

The whole team is gathered around the table when he gets out there, and Tony feels a weird flush of pleasure at the collective once-over they give him.

'So,' he grins. 'Who's going to cook me dinner?'

He ducks out of the way as Natasha and Clint pelt him with pens and spoons.

'Come on,' he laughs, ducking around Steve to hide. 'You wouldn't _believe_ how bad Joey's mom's mac and cheese was.'

Apparently it's a bit too soon for Steve, if the way he stiffens is any indication, so Tony squeezes the guy by the biceps and calls for Jarvis to order a pizza. 'All the pizzas, in fact. Every one of them. Guys, you've got an hour to change into your PJs so we can have a proper Avengers Sleepover.'

He gives Steve a small smile before he heads back to his room to fish out some ratty sweats. They'll watch some trashy movies, Thor will challenge everyone to a pizza-eating competition and Bruce will pass out in a beanbag at about one-thirty. Team time is the best time.

****

Natasha won the toss for choosing movies, the dirty cheat, so they've been sitting through about six hours of Jackie Chan movies from the 70s when Steve's arm comes creeping along the back of the couch to rest along Tony's shoulders. Tony thinks about it for about five seconds before he leans against Steve and hauls the big lug's arm down to drape on his chest.

He doesn't have to look to feel the shy smile spread over Steve's face.

'Yeah?' Steve breathes, sending a shiver down Tony's spine.

'Shh,' Tony reprimands him. 'I'm watching the movie.'

Steve chuckles and pulls Tony a little closer.

Tomorrow, Tony and Jarvis will go looking through SHIELD files and the whole internet if they have to to find out how Joey works and what he did to Jarvis. Tomorrow he'll call Pepper and let her bawl him out for being an idiot, then let Rhodey have his crack. That's for tomorrow, though. For now, Tony's right where he wants to be and he intends to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took forever; sorry for the delay!


End file.
